The Desert of Souls, page 10
“And then I saw something that set my heart to racing, for there, in the thick black ahead, were six dim red points of light. They were grouped in twos, at the height of a man, and I thought that, not one, but three efreet with flames set in their skulls awaited us. I clenched my sword and bared my teeth.
“ ‘They speak,’ Dabir whispered in astonishment.
My audience there on the boat looked almost as surprised as Dabir and I had been. I let them savor the moment before plunging on. I was thoroughly enjoying myself, which assuredly had not been the case when I was experiencing the events I was then relating. “I heard the voices as well, despairing. How might I fight invisible demons with glowing eyes? But then I recognized the voice of Lydia, and Corineus in answer, though I could not make out their words.
“ ‘Ah,’ Dabir said in realization, and he urged me forward with a tap on the back.
“I drew close enough to see that the glowing eyes were but six small holes cut in the wall. Light from another room showed through them. I shook my head in relief, and put my face to one set as Dabir stepped to another. No doubt ancient spies had used the holes in the exact manner we did.
“Two low fires burned in a square chamber. I saw Jaffar, standing as yet unharmed, though Lydia’s muscular guard held his collar with one hand and a sword to his neck with the other. He swayed slightly, as though stricken with fear, or drunken, but he looked whole. I breathed a prayer of thanks to Allah. Corineus and slender Lydia stood nearby, their faces turned to a square column into which a bearded face was carved. The Greek’s servants were nowhere to be seen. So intent was I on Jaffar’s welfare that I had to look twice before I saw the horror they addressed. The wet, red thing hanging from the lips of the carved stone face was a tongue—the shining orbs in its sockets were goat’s eyes. I made the sign against the evil eye.
“ ‘The wealth of your kingdom, majesty?’ Corineus was saying.
“And then the stone lips moved. I do not lie. There came a hoarse rumble from the stone: ‘It shall be yours.’ ”
My listeners gasped audibly.
“ ‘Have I not kept my promises?’ the deep voice asked. ‘But first you must keep yours. Is this the ruler?’ The eyes moved. Somehow this was more awful even than the voice, or the tongue. They were prominent and staring, and their stone lids did not blink. ‘He is not arrayed like a king.’
“Corineus bowed his head. ‘As I feared, majesty, I could not bring the caliph himself. But this man is his trusted friend—’
“The stone face cursed him. But then Corineus told of Jaffar’s power, and how he had the ear of the caliph, and that he was one of the most powerful men in all the caliphate, and the voice grudgingly said it would take him. While this went on I sought vainly for a release in the stone—a catch, a latch, something that might be a sort of opening. There was nothing. And then I heard Lydia speak.
“ ‘Wait—’ she said, ‘you have not yet passed on your secrets. You have not fulfilled your bargain.’
“The stone lips curled. ‘You accuse Tiglath-Pileser of deception?’
“ ‘No, no, majesty,’ Corineus said quickly in a tone even more ingratiating than he’d used with Jaffar. ‘She wishes merely to hear a sampling of your promised wisdom. As do I. It was no easy matter recontacting you once we came here, or readying this man for you. We have proved our faith. Now show us yours.’
“ ‘Very well,’ the eerie voice continued.”
I lowered my voice and straightened my back, doing my best to imitate that ancient, regal manner of speech. “ ‘Gather the strongest about you, and arm them well. Send them to take from the weak, take a part for yourself, and reward them with what remains. Give them riches, and women, but do not let them rest. Most will die, but more will come, eager for the treasures. In this way you build your power.’
“Lydia did not sound pleased with this advice. ‘This is no secret,’ she said. ‘There has to be something else!’ She calmed herself and asked if there were more, and that old stone face spoke on.
“ ‘Leave no enemy alive. As your forces grow, you ride forth, and take more. So long as you gather the strong to your side and reward them, there will always be more!’
“ ‘This spirit has no secrets,’ Dabir whispered to me. ‘He taught those tactics to the world all too well, alas.’
“I asked Dabir what we could do, and he wondered if the two of us might lift one of the broken pillars we saw earlier, saying further that the wall seemed thin. Eagerly I grasped his idea, and we hurried off, for Lydia had begun to chant as she walked about a circle drawn on the flagstones before the face. Dabir said this was a spell. As we moved off into the darkness, I told Dabir I wished we still had a torch.
“ ‘I wish I were in a warm bath,’ he said sourly, then urged me to haste.”
Dabir cut in quickly. “You leave out part of their doings, Asim. Corineus and Lydia argued at greater length.”
I shrugged.
“It is Asim’s story,” Hamil said.
“I think it important to note,” Dabir continued stubbornly, “that Corineus said the king had doubtless learned many things other than Arabic in his millennia in hell, and he looked forward to knowing those secrets. A king from his time, you see, would not have spoken Arabic, though I have often wondered that they did not converse in Greek. Perhaps he was practicing for his new role.” Dabir said the last as if speaking to himself.
I waved this off. “That doesn’t matter.”
“A good storyteller must tailor his story for his listeners,” Hamil agreed. “Go on, Asim. If someone cuts in again, the rest of us shall stare him down.” Everyone seemed to agree, and nodded, then looked at me to continue.
I cleared my throat. “Well. We moved into the darkness, feeling our way. And before long I struck the pillar’s end with the toe of my boot and cursed mightily—under my breath, but mightily. I do not think that sort of thing ever happened to Rostam. Then Dabir and I lifted a part of one of those broken pillars. Even quartered as it was, the thing was quite heavy, and I staggered to bear it.
“With it in my arms I jogged back into the darkness, my sheathed sword slapping my thigh. I hurried both to build speed for ramming and because I feared if I did not move fast I would have to drop the thing. Dabir followed, breathing heavily and supporting the pillar’s back end.
“This time when I saw the burning eyeholes it was with relief, and I increased my pace. I grunted against the burden in my arms. My back ached, my biceps began to numb. And my toe still hurt. Still I ran, building speed, and we smashed the pillar into the wall. Chunks of masonry flew away and a jagged opening was torn from the spot where the eyes had peered, almost to the floor. Something sharp struck my head and then I was through the gap. We pushed the pillar away from us, and it crashed into three long pieces. I drew my sword.
“Our entrance had in no way been quiet. Every eye in the chamber stared at me, even the horrible ones shoved into the stone face, even Lydia’s. She paused in her magics. I called to God and ran forward, whirling my blade over my head.
“Corineus yelled something in Greek and the burly Greek guard shoved Jaffar away to come at me. Our swords met, throwing sparks.
“The Greek was strong and no stranger to the blade. We struck and parried, trading blows again and again. Each time I swung, his weapon was there to block mine, as mine was for his. It grew clear to me swiftly that we were matched in both speed and strength. I could spare little attention to anything else in the room. I did know that Dabir had run forward to confront Corineus, who had grasped a wobbly Jaffar and held a knife to his throat. I could hear him call out for the two of us to stop, but there was no stopping the Greek, and I had no mind to be killed by him, so the two of us kept fighting. Lydia, meanwhile, resumed her chant. And that awful old voice from before Muhammad roared for her to hurry.
“I had a plan then, and I increased my onslaught. The Greek warrior blocked expertly as I came on, not realizing my objective as he retreated. I swung from my left, locked his blade, and in a flash stepped in to clout his face. He leapt backward. Lydia cried out.
“The warrior landed in the midst of the circle. Instantly he threw back his head, staggering. His mouth shook, straining against a scream that did not come. The blade fell from twitching fingers and rang against the floor. Backing him into the sorcery had worked even better than I’d supposed. Whatever dark magics the circle contained were now afflicting him. He crumpled to the floor. It was no warrior’s death, but I dared not cross the circle to finish him with steel. Lydia swore at me, but I paid her no heed. Jaffar, shaking his head as though dizzy, wrestled awkwardly with Corineus, whose knife was gone. Dabir watched, sword poised. He dared not strike for fear of hitting Jaffar.
“I had more faith in my arm. My blade cut through Corineus’s clothes, and his spine, before he knew I was there. He collapsed upon Jaffar, flopping and bleeding. The girl screamed rage behind me. I bent to help up Jaffar, who expressed gratitude to us both, though he seemed to have trouble focusing. I learned later that he had been drugged, so that he was ever after unsure about what he had really witnessed.
“At a noise from behind, Dabir and I whirled as one.
“The Greek guard was back up. This time he growled wickedly. His eyes were lit with vicious intelligence. Behind him the tongue hung slackly from the stone lips and the eyes that should never have moved were dull and glazed.
“The warrior laughed and came for me once more! I thrust, but he deflected it with an effortless twist of his hand. The old dead king had taken the warrior’s body, and the old kings, you see, were not the sort who waxed fat on their thrones watching dancing girls. This one knew swordcraft. As he swung high and low against me, now feinting, now thrusting, it was all I could do to defend. Mayhap he had learned a trick or two in the nether realms, for I was panting hard in only moments.
“Again he laughed and his deep voice bore that strange ancient accent. ‘You will die first!’ There was pleasure and hunger in those words.
“I pressed my attack, but that was just what he wanted. He parried and thrust, slicing through my jubbah and drawing blood along my side. If I had not slid back he would have struck me dead. Pained, startled, I leapt away, watching his eyes. He grinned wickedly. Beyond me, Dabir busied himself with the circle about the stone; Lydia knelt over her father’s body.
“The dead king whispered in a dark, low tone and the shape of my sword blurred! It took the form of a hissing snake and snapped at my wrist.” I paused in my narration to find the audience’s attention anchored surely to my every word, then resumed in a confidential tone. “Now here is where the old dead king made his mistake, and you soldiers should heed well. He had me, understand. He had more skill than I, and more power. I was fighting purely on the defense. All he had to do was keep pressing me, and he would have won out. Instead, feeling cocky, he sought a more complicated victory. When my sword transformed into a snake he probably meant for me to fling it aside—but I flung it at him.
“A curious thing transpired. The snake struck him and stuck out of his chest. Then its form blurred once more and I saw that my blade had pierced his side. He looked down in bewilderment as blood gushed from him. He staggered slightly to one side, my hilt wobbling in him. The blood flowed down his tunic and his thighs.
“ ‘No matter,” he said, sneering. “I will simply take another…’ And he stepped toward the circle, only to utter a strangled cry, for Dabir had stepped into the circle and stood beside that hideous stone. You might think that was a foolish thing, but he had broken the protective magic and written the name of Allah across the top part of the stone. When I snatched the blade from the Greek’s body and struck him again, he fell and died, emitting a wail of terror as the dead king’s soul fell back to the court of Iblis.”
I was quiet for a long moment, letting them picture the scene, and finally little Abdul could take it no longer. “What happened then?” he asked.
“Well, Jaffar was grateful, as you might imagine, and showered us with praise. He might have doubted his senses, but he was certain we had saved him. Lydia rose stiffly from the body of her father, her head high. No matter that she was a short woman; she looked tall with dignity. ‘What will you do with me?’ she asked.
“ ‘I do not know,’ Jaffar admitted. That he said this was remarkable given the usual duties of his office. He pressed a hand to his head, visibly forcing himself to concentrate. ‘You have been party to murder and lies.’ He looked away briefly then added, ‘I don’t suppose you were made to participate unwillingly?’
“ ‘No,’ she said fiercely. A silence grew before she ended it. ‘Your man killed my father.’
“ ‘That is regrettable,’ Jaffar said, ‘but all these events are of your making. Were you so desperate for power that you would let no propriety interfere?’
“Her lovely face screwed up in anger. ‘Desperate?’ she snapped. ‘Yes. Now, I suppose, you will take me before other men and pronounce a man’s justice upon me. Do so. My only crime is wanting some share in a world ruled by bearded fools.’
“Jaffar’s eyes widened a little, then he frowned sadly. His voice, when at last he spoke, was soft. ‘Ride, Lydia. Take one slave and ride, as swift as you dare, and do not darken this land again. I wish never to look upon you.’
“She stared at Jaffar as though she had not heard him properly. Finally she said, ‘But my father’s body—’
“ ‘Go!’ Jaffar barked.
“And thus she left, though she gave me a final dark look. She hurried from the room and was gone. There is not much more left to tell. My wounds were bandaged. We never found any gold or jewels, though we dug for a little longer because we’d heard the spirit saying such things were hidden there.”
“There were the tablets,” Dabir countered. “We took wagonloads back to the House of Wisdom.”
“There was that,” I said. “Most of them spoke of the deeds of that dead king, though, and made for gruesome retelling. Dabir and I prospered and stand high now in the master’s favor because of that day. And … there is nothing more to tell.”
Everyone praised me then, saying that I had done a fine job. I concealed my pleasure with a long stretch and yawn and rose, saying that it was time for all but those on watch to settle in for the night. A few of them lingered.
Mahmoud drew close. “Last time you told the tale, the dead king called forth a demon with a man’s face and you fought it while Dabir struggled through the magic circle.”
“Well,” I said, “a good storyteller tailors his story for his audience.”
Hamil, waiting beside him, laughed. He actually slapped me on the back. “That was nicely done, Captain. Nicely done. The ending could have had a little more punch, but I have heard worse from folk who make their living with such things.”
“Thank you, Hamil,” I said.
“We should talk more, you and I,” he said. “About storytelling.”
I nodded my consent, feeling odd at this change in his usual manner with me. I’d hoped for a quick word with Dabir, but I saw him withdrawing with Esfandiar. I started to follow, but Sabirah was there, and clearly wanted to speak. She looked up at me and I was struck by the way her eyes silvered in the moonlight.
“I have heard Uncle tell that tale,” she said, “but never in that way. He said nothing about any magics.”
“Aye. The bhang made him witness many odd things. He only thought himself the victim in a strange murder ritual.” The master had never directly accused either Dabir or me of fabrication, but subtle remarks he’d made discouraged us from arguing against his version of events. He’d once told us, smiling, that no extra details were required to earn his favor, for he was already grateful to us.
“He never spoke so about the Greek woman. Was she truly so captivating, or was that just for the benefit of your listeners?”
“She was a striking woman,” I said. “Though short. I expect she will age less gracefully than you.”
Sabirah blinked at me, seeming not to know how to absorb this information. I guessed that I misjudged the purpose of her query. “I have another question, Asim.”
“Aye?”
“Have you had any storyteller’s training?”
“Nay.”
“So your skill is all learned by listening to others?”
“I suppose it is.”
“And natural instinct, I expect. Do you still think that those bowls were confused?”
I said nothing for a time, for all good feeling left over from my success as a storyteller fled on the instant. I had momentarily forgotten such things. “Good night, Sabirah,” I managed finally. She studied me for a moment, then walked off for her cramped quarters. I stepped away to where Dabir and the Magian sat quietly together. The spars rattled gently against the mast, and the insects chirruped among the grasses.
Esfandiar paused in midsentence to glance up at me, then continued. “—disclosing any more.”
“Pardon my saying this, Dastur,” Dabir went on without looking to me. “You are no young man. A desert trip will tax your energy.”
“I know this.”
“The trip might kill. What harm, then, will come from sharing the route with me? Tell me the way, so that you can return home with Sabirah when we arrive at Basra.”
Did Dabir, then, mean to learn Ubar’s location? Could this be what Jaffar had warned me of? Was Dabir trying to take more power for himself?
“You words hold wisdom,” the old man said slowly. “And I will consider them carefully. It may be that it will do good to have more than one of us knowing the way … but I mean to go with you.”
“Why?” Dabir prodded.
“I am at least partly to blame for Firouz,” Esfandiar said, then sighed deeply. “He is my son.”
